


Release

by zulu



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Female Protagonist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-16
Updated: 2010-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-13 12:44:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zulu/pseuds/zulu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amber blamed the universe, because House wasn't good enough to hate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Release

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bell (bellaboo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellaboo/gifts).



> Thank you to tellitslant and topaz_eyes for the betas!

Amber sighed in satisfaction and crawled up Thirteen's body, smirking at her dazed, pleasure-stunned expression. She hadn't lost the knack. Assured of her own prowess, Amber rolled onto her back and wriggled against the pillows. "Told you," she said.

Thirteen let out a short, satiated moan. "When you said you'd done this before--"

"I said I'd had practice." Amber surreptitiously found the corner of the sheet and dabbed her mouth. Not as messy as men, but still, there might be kissing later. That was the lovely thing about girls--most of them didn't mind fucking you after they'd already come. And Thirteen was--Amber paused to calculate mentally--a decent kisser. With practice she might even be great. A seven, Amber decided.

James had needed more practice, but then--

Amber frowned and dropped one hand off the side of the bed to find her cell phone. It had to be nearly midnight; they were both due at the hospital tomorrow at eight, no matter what House managed to do to himself tonight.

Thirteen shifted onto her elbow to watch her, absently scooping her hair off her face. Amber glanced at her, but didn't feel guilty for a second about checking the time. Not every roll in the hay--or in Thirteen's ridiculous loft--had to end in cuddling. "So what was that?" Thirteen asked. " A little 'I'm sorry you're dying, but don't expect me to care once the chorea sets in'?"

Amber threw the sheets back. It was oppressively hot in here, high ceilings or not. "Oh, don't whine," she said. Whatever her reasons, she hadn't come here to help Thirteen throw herself a pity party.

"I have a fatal illness," Thirteen scoffed. "How is it whining to recognize that I'm going to die?"

"You're going to have ten or fifteen or _twenty_ amazing years," Amber said. "And don't try to deny it. You're already packing as much life into the time you have left as you possibly can."

"What, by letting you seduce me--?"

" _I_ had four months." Amber's throat tried to close, and she gritted her teeth, refusing to give in to another crying jag. She'd done that--a week of stormy, wracking tears, throwing all her grief right back out at the universe that had taken James from her right when she'd _found_ him--and it was over. She'd made a mess of herself at James' funeral, with her nose red and eyes puffy, leaking all over the handful of tissues she'd tucked into her purse, but even then she'd known it wouldn't _help_. She'd looked awful for no good reason, because all the love and respect James had given her had an expiry date after all. Just not one of his making. God _damn_ House.

That was a path Amber had trained her thoughts not to pursue. Amber preferred to blame the universe, because House wasn't good enough to hate. She sneered at Thirteen's shocked-sober regret at sticking her foot in it. "Oh, don't bother feeling sorry for me."

"It's not that." Thirteen arched her eyebrows and pursed her lips slightly, an unfortunate expression that made her look half supermodel, half disapproving fish. "I'm just stunned that you'd use Wilson to make your point."

Amber's jaw dropped for a wild split second, speechless that Thirteen would throw James in her face like that--and then she snapped her mouth shut. "All right," she conceded, doing her best to conceal the acid in her voice, even though Thirteen's smirk proved she knew she'd gotten to her. "We're both sad, pa _the_ tic. We're probably a grief counsellor's wet dream."

"Yeah," Thirteen said, her eyelashes brushing her cheeks the way they did when she was trying not to show she was laughing--as if she didn't know that the shake of her shoulders gave it away. When she met Amber's gaze again, her eyes were dancing with humour. She flipped over, lithe and feline, and settled her hands on either side of Amber's shoulders. "He's straight, right? Lives alone?"

Amber rolled her eyes, but allowed the obvious diversion. "Thirty-four and never had a date," she agreed, stretching her neck--which was _not_ an invitation for Thirteen to kiss her, although Amber magnanimously didn't mind when she did. Thirteen's lips tasted of something stereotypically girly and pink and strawberry; amazing how the scent of her lipgloss had already become familiar, from work, and now, smeared across Amber's skin. The way James' cologne never had a chance to.

"Gets off on girls hugging it out," Amber murmured more quietly, keeping as much of her sarcastic edge as she could manage. Thirteen smiled slowly and leaned down, letting their mouths meet softly. Her hair fell over her shoulders, tickling Amber's throat. Thirteen kissed her lightly, like it wasn't just sex for her. Amber's chest constricted, tears threatening again. Dammit.

"Likes it when they cry on his shoulder," Thirteen said, keeping up the game. Her fingertips touched Amber's bare shoulder, exploring; how the hell were her hands so warm? In the dimness, her eyes were very green. She didn't have to take Amber up on some hasty, biting invitation, as if it had been real--Amber hadn't had anything real in months and she was disgusted with herself for how much she hurt, missing it. Thirteen didn't have to know that. Hell, she could be out living the rest of her tragically foreshortened life, for God's sake, instead of kissing Amber like she was trying to get to know her.

Amber forced a swallow past the stubborn lump in her throat, but her next breath came sharp and ragged. She squeezed her eyes shut. She wouldn't. She wouldn't let Thirteen _win_ , she wouldn't let her see--

Thirteen said, "Hey," or something equally stupid, and then suddenly she had Amber's head cradled against her chest, where Amber could turn her face against Thirteen's throat and pretend as hard as she wanted to that she wasn't crying. Her shoulders weren't heaving, she wasn't getting her snot all over Thirteen's obnoxiously soft skin.

"Hey," Thirteen said again, against Amber's hair. Amber didn't hear her so much as feel the movement of her lips, the warmth of her breath. "I know."

And damn her, because she _did_ know. Amber wanted to push Thirteen away, lash out against every last second of Thirteen's pity, except it wasn't, and she knew it. It wasn't fucking fair, that she'd had a chance and seen it stolen away. It wasn't _fair_.

Amber grabbed Thirteen and held her tight, like she'd never known she needed to hold James the last time; and for once she wasn't furious when she let herself cry.


End file.
